Uncannily

Tracing your eyebrows on paper?
eyes mine, we will
write together our religion.

Each night catches
my moons from the lake
of tears. The days were
becoming shorter.

Surely, I have not
arrived amidst the seekers
of easy death. You give me?
the hope of resuscitation.

I promise myself?
I will not give you a call?
till the nightingale sings in
mango grove.

All night it has rained.
Lacrimal. I prepare myself to
wash my eyes again?
to read your face.